


what's a monster again?

by Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams



Series: A Thousand Lives [6]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Badass Armin Arlert, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Minor Violence, Vampires, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4530969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams/pseuds/Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘My mother wants me to bring that 'pretty boy’ that’s always hanging around me over for the holidays except he’s not so much a boy as a vampire/werewolf/supernatural creature that helps me hunt down and kill whoever the government points us at, sometimes in the bloodiest way possible’ AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	what's a monster again?

Jean is used to bad ideas. In fact, some might even say he is the _king_ of bad ideas. Take that time when he thought it'd be a good idea to walk into a vampire blood bank with no backup; or when he took on that werewolf and had to climb a tree to wait for help; or when he was doused with a hallucinogenic and thought it'd be a good idea to see if he could fly or--yeah okay, that’s enough.

See, Jean knows that he's made more than his fair share of mistakes--and that he's lucky to be alive most days--but bringing his partner home to his mother--his partner who had witnessed more than a few of his mistakes and who was the main reason he wasn't dead--had the potential to be the biggest one of all.

"You want me to meet your parents?" Armin had asked, several weeks ago. He'd looked bemused, a finger in his book to hold his place.

"Well, just my ma, but yeah." Jean had shifted nervously, biting down on the tip of his thumb. "Will you?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" The blonde had pressed. "I'm not exactly meet-the-parents material, Jean."

"You joking?" Jean shook his head, moving to lean against the armrest of the chair Armin was sitting on. Armin looked up at him, face as serious as ever. "Armin, I've seen you sweet talk _fairies_ , and you know how easily insulted they can be--they're a retail worker's worst nightmare. My mother should be a piece of cake."

"If you say so," he'd answered dubiously, leaning into Jean's side.

"Is that a yes?" Jean had hedged.

"Yes," Armin's smile had been rueful. "It'll be a good experience, hopefully."

Jean had hoped so as well, and now here they were, actually doing things and the hoping was over. Though, judging by the smile on his mother's face and the way Armin was laughing, hoping hadn't been necessary. Armin was amazing at getting along with people in general, so when he turned his 'shy' charm on anyone in the vicinity were goners. It was one of the reasons Jean had stopped protesting being partnered with someone who looked like they would pass out at the sight of blood--a theory that Armin had later disapproved when their very first mission together had ended with him splattered in gore and Armin had barely blinked.

Dinner went by in a flash, full of his mother's gentle teasing and compliments, Jean's blushing stutters and Armin's shy smiles. It was a facade that Jean enjoyed far too much, and he found himself more than once wishing that it could last far longer than a measly three hours.

"I like him," his mother told him simply as they washed dishes. Armin was sitting in the living room, drinking the last of his wine and looking at the pictures dotting the room.

"I do too," Jean told her, smiling slightly.

"He seems like a nice boy, and he certainly has enough good looks."

From the other room what sounded like someone stumbling drifted into the kitchen; he forced back a snicker. "He is and he does."

The woman smiled ruefully, nudging him with a wet spoon. "He's as secretive about work as you are, though."

Ah, work, forever a forbidden topic around the house. His mother had nagged and worried for months after he'd told her that he'd found a place that would hire him but that that was all he was going to tell her. She'd given in in the end, much to his relief, but she still bugged him about it every now and then. Jean could take it. He doubted that she would be very pleased to find out that he was the equivalent of an assassin for the government--not to mention the fact that the shy, well mannered blonde in the living room was actually a monster in disguise. "I told you that it has to be a secret, ma. We've been sworn to secrecy."

"I know," she sighed, tucking a strand of graying hair behind her ear. "I just worry, you know. You're my son and my mind comes up with all these ways that you could get into trouble with a job like that. And now you've got Armin to look out for--"

Jean almost snorted at that. Armin was far from helpless. If anything it was Jean who always needed looking out for.

"--I know you think that you can handle things, and I'm sure Armin does too, but accidents do happen--"

Accidents. Like Armin accidentally killing their target before they get the proper information out of them?

"--as your mother I'd just like to know that you're safe--"

"Ma," Jean started, cutting in as soon as her eyes started to get misty. "We're fine. We won't get hurt."

She looked ready to argue until Armin stepped into the room on silent feet, glass empty and in hand. "He's right, Mrs. Kirstein. We're perfectly safe." He smiled then, one of his blinding, cherubic, deceiving ones, and she was lost.

"Oh, well of course dear." She brightened, dabbing at her eyes with her apron. "I just worry. Mothers always do."

"I understand," Armin assured, setting his glass down next to Jean. Jean took it without a word and began to wash it. "I'll look out for him though. We're partners for a reason, after all."

Bemusedly, Jean wondered when his life had taken such a turn for the worst(???) to the point that he'd let his mother be comforted by the devil.

"And you let him take care of you too," his mother was saying, patting Armin's hand.

He sighed. It was only a matter of time before that hand was stained in blood again, as well as his own. With the people he'd killed he wondered if he would be classified as a devil as well. Or if his mother would even want him around if she found out.

* * *

One week later, Jean looked at an Armin with bared fangs, the _drip drip drip_ of blood falling from his fingers a rhythm all it's own, and smiled. It didn't matter what Armin was now, because one thing that was for sure was that Jean had certainly fallen in love with the small blonde in front of him, monster or not, and that was all Jean really needed to know.

"C'mon," he murmured, stepping over the scatter of body fluids and what was probably brain matter. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Armin licked his lips, pale pink tongue turning a sinful red. "You too," he pointed out.

Jean shrugged, catching Armin's bloodstained hand in his own. "We'll just have to shower together then."

Armin's laughter didn't sound anything like a devil at all, but then again, what did he know? He was hardly an expert.

(He enjoyed it too much to care anyways.)


End file.
